


Things we don't talk about (thanks for telling me)

by GentleStorm



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: 5x05 fixit, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Amputation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everybody Lives, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mac and Jack get their shit together, Mac wears Jack's dogtags, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SO MUCH THERAPY, Sharing a Bed, Therapy, Torture, Trauma, Truth Serum, While the rape is never talked about or described it is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:14:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28971909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentleStorm/pseuds/GentleStorm
Summary: They don’t talk about Cairo. Mac thinks it’s because it was the worse situation they’ve ever been in outside of the Army, because well it was the Sandbox. Jack lets him believe that, hasn’t said anything different about any of it. Sam Cage notices his twitch when Mac says they were trapped for four hours inside a sarcophagus though. She never gets the chance to ask him.It was fine.It was less fine when Jack dies again.“Hey, you a big fan ofDie Hard?” The guard busts his nose more. Jack spits the blood out and grins through it. “It’s a damn good movie, see because all McClane cared about was his family, in every single one of the movies. He wanted to save the world, sure, but he really cared about his family.” Jack smiles at the woman in front of him. Kovac. Vitez.Or Mac realizes Jack's not dead and after much, much therapy and recovery, they get their shit together
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Jack Dalton/Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Past Angus MacGyver/Desiree "Desi" Nguyen, Past Angus Macgyver (MacGyver 2016)/Orginal Male Character(s), Past Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016)/Original Female Character(s), Riley Davis/Desiree "Desi" Nguyen
Kudos: 38





	Things we don't talk about (thanks for telling me)

They don’t talk about Cairo. Mac thinks it’s because it was the worse situation they’ve ever been in outside of the Army, because well it was the Sandbox. Jack lets him believe that, hasn’t said anything different about any of it. Sam Cage notices his twitch when Mac says they were trapped for four hours inside a sarcophagus though. She never gets the chance to ask him.

Well, she tries, but Jack spins a great story with Bruce Willis from _Hard Kill_. She lets him talk for thirty minutes about trying to stop a hacker back when he was a loose cannon (Jack has never been a lose cannon, not when he’s had Mac), and Mac was striking out from their Army days before politely telling him that she had read their files. Jack had smirked at her, and then the world had gone to shit. They’d never finished that conversation, thank God.

So, Cairo.

It’d be easier if it’d just been the physical stuff. The action side of it, being shoved up next to each other in a tight space. Jack is still a little claustrophobic afterwards. Maybe they turned to each other for comfort, like a lot of agents in hard (ha, Jack could be comedian) situations do. But that wasn’t it. It’s when Jack realized _I could do this for the rest of my life_ , and it would be more than enough. It was when Jack knew Mac didn’t love him back. It was when Mac had noticed Jack’s boner, and very politely and awkwardly turned him down, saying “Oh, I’m not into guys, but hey, thank you, and I’m sorry.” Jack had nodded and muttered something about the situation. It’d been when it had taken Jack three months of messing with Mac, forcing him to confront the awkwardness, and put it to rest, before they both got over it.

It was fine.

Although he still did not like flying over Egypt because it’d almost taken the best thing he had away from him. Jack dealt with it. He had. He’d hired Densi to look after Mac, and went halfway around the world, trying to do right, trying to catch Kovac. Riles and the gang called him often. Jack knew that Densi and Mac would eventually get their shit together, and figure it out. It was fine.

It was less fine when Jack dies again.

“Hey, you a big fan of _Die Hard_?” The guard busts his nose more. Jack spits the blood out and grins through it. “It’s a damn good movie, see because all McClane cared about was his family, in every single one of the movies. He wanted to save the world, sure, but he really cared about his family.” Jack smiles at the woman in front of him. Kovac. Vitez.

“I do not care for your American movies,” she says. “Now, where is the Phoenix located?”

“See, I’ve always loved family.” The guard breaks two more ribs. Jack swallows some blood. “And the Phoenix is my family.”

“Come on, Jack, I’m starting out easy here.” Jack gasps, and wiggles in his bonds. They have him on a table. Vitez smiles at him, and looks at the guard. “You have a week to break him.” She leaves. He prays that Mac gets the damn clue about their manniversary and the illuminati and Cairo. Jack really went for broke in those clues.

Jack leaves too, retreats inside. He comes out when they start in on his feet, before leaving again. It doesn’t matter. Jack’s never going to give them Mac. Besides, he has time, hopefully. God, let Mac find the note. Let Mac know that he didn’t die.

“Still here, I see,” Vitez says after a week. She’s smiling, and through bloody eyes and a swollen face, Jack can see the rot inside her that he missed before. Jack doesn’t try talking. They’d removed two of his molars yesterday. “I love that scene, you know the one where McClane walks on broken glass?”

She watches as they prepare a bucket and force him into it, standing. They dislocate his shoulders and hang him there. Jack has the great choice to stand on broken glass or rest his weight on his battered wrists and shoulders.

 _This would make a great action flick_ ,” he wants to say to Mac. _Remember that scene from_ Day Another Day _? Where we worried that Bond would break? I got this in the bag kid, just use your big head and find me. Find me_.

Vitez is too good at what she does to let him die. The guards drag hope from him. Every night they hose him down, throw dog food at him, and play heavy metal. Jack tells them about his manniversary, and prays that Mac got the note. The safe’s key was not the day they met, but the day they first became a team in the Sandbox. He knows that Mac won’t need it though. Kid’s too smart for his own good.

Jack loses two toes for giving up a code that will trigger a Phoenix alert. He loses his left foot for another one. One of the guards pierces his ballsack out of revenge, giving him a break from the perpetual waterboarding that was getting a little dull to be honest. Nobody does interrogation prep like the CIA, and Jack almost slept through it-is what he’d tell Mac if Mac was here. The guard had lost a friend from the ensuring attack and used a dull needle. Vietz had moved him. Stress positions. Water boarding. Sleep deprivation. Dehumanizing tactics.

The thing was, Jack wasn’t high up in Ops. He didn’t have a lot of intelligence to share, or so he liked to say. But he’d been working black ops for over twenty years. He’d learn a thing or two, and with every pass of the knife, the temptation grew to share.

It took Mac a month to find him. Four days to get him out.

Jack didn’t know he was rescued, not until two days after. He’d been shocky and kept repeating his service number over and over again whenever they woke him up. Mac hadn’t left his side, and is currently passed out on a stool. His legs were kicked up on Jack’s cot, dusty boots and all. Jack’s hand brushes the laces of the boots, trying to convince himself that this is real. This is real.

Jack feels his breath getting short and sharp. He tries to rip off the mask. Mac wakes up to that and lurches to his feet. “Hey, hey, easy, easy, you need that. ‘S all right. ‘S all right.” Mac’s hands guide him back down. “You’re all right. We got you out two days ago. Shhh. Everybody’s fine. Shhh. Easy. Easy.” Jack’s hand grabs Mac’s wrist. “Shh. I promise.” Everything hurts, Jack wants to tell him. “I know. I know. Doc’s coming. You set off all the machines. Shhh. That’s it.” Mac keeps up the mumble until the doctor comes over. They’re on a plane from what Jack can tell.

“Hi, Mr. Dalton, I’m glad you’re back with us. I’m Dr. Milton, but most people call me Red.” The doc’s young, twenty something with bright red hair, most definitely somebody that Matty hand picked. Jack tries to calm his breathing down more. “We just hit US airspace. We’ll have you home in a couple hours. Let me know if anything hurts or is triggering, all right?” Jack summons up an eyeroll for him. “Good. Sarcasm is great. Easy now.” The doc is quick and quiet. “Okay. I’m gonna switch you to a nose piece for breathing, real spiffy, I promise.” Jack flinches away from that, and Red slows down a bit but gets it done. “All right. All right.” Red smiles cheerfully at that. “I’m glad you’re awake. How you feel?”

“Oh, pretty-” Jack coughs, clearing his throat a little- “pretty good. Vitez?”

“Arrested. On a different plane,” Mac says, his voice tight.

Jack grimaces. “Right. You okay, kid?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. Can I get some more pain med?” he asks the doctor, making Mac nervous. He’s watched Jack laugh off gunshot wounds and only sigh about being stabbed.

“Coming right up. I don’t really want you in pain for the landing.” The drugs are pushed and all of Jack’s tension slips away. He fuzzily hears the doctor saying, “I expect him to make a full recovery.”

Great. Good. Sure, pall. Jack’ll get right on that. He falls back asleep, grateful for the oblivion.

“He’ll be okay?” Mac asks, watching his friend, his partner sleep.

Red shakes his head. “Physically, he should recover. I’m worried about nerve and lung damage. He inhaled a lot of water, but so far so good.” Mac sighs and rubs at his face. “You should get some sleep.”

Mac shakes his head. “I’ll sleep when we’re on solid ground. His teeth?” he asks.

“They took four teeth. Implants. The docs will clean up the incision and his leg a little. I promise Macgyver, he’s all right for now. Get some sleep before I knock you out.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Mac grins. “You too. We’ve both been burning the candle at both ends.”

“Deal.” The doctor sacks out on some folded blankets, well used to falling asleep thanks to the military and med school. Mac takes a little longer, staring at Jack’s nail beds, missing their nails. He chokes down a sob.

“You had me worried,” Mac murmurs, his fingers clenched in Jack’s. Between the running, finding, and breaking Jack out, Mac hadn’t had time to rest. He wants to sleep, to dream about nothing, but he knows the nightmares are waiting. Riley, Boser, and Desi are up near the front with a curtain between them. The plane is midsize, but equipped trauma supplies. It was the best Matty could do in the available time. They’d waited until Jack was healed enough to handle changing cabin pressure. “I thought you were dead,” Mac murmurs. He takes a shuddering breath, thinking about what they’d found in that cell.

Jack had been laying in a cell, shaking, shivering in the cold. The man had been covered in blood and bodily fluids. Mac hadn’t known if he was alive, if it was _Jack_. The missing foot would haunt Mac’s nightmares for a long time to come.

“You’re safe,” Mac tells himself more than Jack. He pulls a blanket up to his chin, and kicks his legs back up on the cot. “You’re going to be okay.” He falls asleep, thinking that mantra.

“Mac,” Riley says, shaking his shoulder gently. Mac flinches and bolts upright. “We landed,” she tells him, keeping her voice soft.

Jack’s happy smile tells them he’s still on the good stuff. “What’s going on, hoss?” he asks, smiling in a way that’s truly worrying both of them. Riley can’t look at him head on. Mac doesn’t blame her.

“Well,” Red says, coming over, smiling back, “we’re going to get you over to Air Med. I bet you they don’t trust me and wanna make sure nothing went horribly wrong since the last time I updated them.” Despite his dismissive tone, Red rechecks all Jack’s vitals, easily keeping the man from interfering when Jack clumsily tries to bump the doc’s hands away.

“I’m fine,” Jack mutters. “I just got out of a month of torture. I’m golden, baby!”

“All, bud, let’s get you all strapped up. Easy.” Jack starts panicking, wheezing out air. “Easy. Hey, Mac?” Red asks, needing him to calm his partner. Riley vanishes somewhere else.

“Jack, it’s all right. It’s all right. Easy.” Mac tries to give him a comforting smile, laying his hands on Jack’s forearms.

“I-I can’t. They tied me up and I can’t, Mac.” They knew it. Mac had seen the torture room, seen the table. Jack had fought them when they tried to strap him down for take-off. Eventually, Mac and the doctor had compromised with them holding him still, making sure he was okay.

“Okay. Okay. How ‘bout he promises to not move, yeah?” Mac asks, desperately not wanting to hurt his friend more.

“How about just the strap across your waist, Jack?” Red asks, pursing his lips.

“I-yeah, that’s-yeah.”

“All right. Mac, can you?”

“Yeah.” They lift the stretcher off the cot, carrying Jack out of the plane. They carry him to an ambulance. Red gets in behind Jack’s head, and Mac sits down next to him. Red and Matty had cleared it with the ambulance drivers, not wanting to stress Jack out more.

“Sorry, hoss,” Jack says to Mac.

“It’s fine. We gotcha.”

The hospital goes down like a lead balloon. It goes fine for a while. Jack lets the nurses draw blood, laughing and smirking. Mac barely looks at anyone, keeping his eyes on Jack. It goes fine until the doctors want to put Jack in MRI machine to look for more trauma, and see if the flight had any negative impact. Mac tells the docs it’s a bad idea. Jack doesn’t say anything, but his face drains of blood. Blood that he doesn’t have to spare, even with the four transfusions he’s had. The doctors don’t relent, and Jack has two panic attacks, one inside and one before they even put him in the machine.

He comes to in a hallway with Mac sitting on the bed with him. Mac’s running his hands through Jack’s hair, humming Metallica. “Sorry,” Jack mutters, trying to sit up.

“Easy, old man,” Mac tells him, and continues to hum and run his hands through Jack’s hair. Red’s scowling next to them. “It’s all right. The docs were stupid. Nothing you did.”

“I can’t-they pinned me to a table.”

“I know. They’re not going to do it again without haldol. You got nothing to apologize for. They wanna do a few X-rays, and then hopefully leave you alone for a few days. Heal up before another surgery,” Red tells them both, glaring at a passing doctor. Mac is starting to like Red.

“Another surgery.”

“Hm.” Red smiles reassuringly at Jack. “It’d be me. I wanna work on your foot a little, and start resetting some of your bones.”

“You gonna do that tonight?”

“Nope. I’ve reset the urgent stuff before we left.” It’d been over a fourteen hour flight. Between that and the day Red had before they’d left, he’s had a fair amount of time to stabilize Jack and do the immediate things.

“Urgent stuff?” Jack asks, trying to starve off having to get more scans.

“Hm. You needed a lot of stitches, rib care, things of that nature. I can give you a complete rundown, but I’d prefer to do the X-rays and double check everything. I had to reset set your shoulder without a great scanner.” He gives Mac a wry grin. “Although what you cobbled together worked pretty well.”

“Don’t they have X-rays in Croatia?” Jack asks, scared and grumpy for it.

“Yeah. Hospital we were at was targeted by what remained of Vitez’s men. We needed to exfil in a hurry.”

“Beautiful. You’re the one doing the X-rays?” Red nods. “All right. But I swear if I get cancer on top of losing a foot, well it’d just be a kick in the head.”

“I’m sorry,” Mac says slowly, chuckling, “are you already joking about losing a foot?”

“Well some people cope with their trauma, Mac. I’m just very evolved.” As they start bickering, Red steers the gurney towards radiation. “Hey! Hey! I never consented to no X-ray.”

“Jack, just let them take some pictures.”

“I-” Mac gives him a pleading look. “Fine, but if I have another panic attack-”

“-You can say you told me so.”

“Well, I was already gonna do that.”

“Easy,” Red says, and he and Mac lift Jack up onto the table. “All right, I’m just gonna put this lap thing across your pelvis. Mac’s gonna stay in the room with you, so he gets a fancy apron of his very own.”

“I’m not a kid. And isn’t that dangerous for him?” Jack asks, scowling a little.

“No. He shouldn’t be-”

“Shouldn’t? Mac go sit in the room with the doc. I’m good. Way less scary than an MRI.”

“Okay,” Mac says after a long moment of eye contact with Jack. Jack bites his sarcastic comment, but only because Mac had spent the last hour babying his PTSD.

The scans don’t take more than ten minutes, what with Red easily manipulating Jack’s positions. But by the time they’re done, Jack’s broken out into a cold sweat. He didn’t move though, and the scans are good. Red rolls Jack back to the room, taking the X-rays with him.

“What’s the word, Red? We toasty? Can I move without fracturing every bone in my body, huh?”

“Yeah, easy though, all right? Your pelvis is still unstable. I’m worried about your shoulders. See here?” Red puts one of the X-rays up on the holder thingie. Jack looks at it intently. It shows off his chest and shoulders. “Multiple dislocations. They kept setting it and then dislocating it again, huh?” Jack nods. “Okay. It’s set again. I might have to operate again, but for now, leave it alone. Don’t move your arms and keep the braces on. Your knees look good. I’m going to keep pumping antibiotics for another two weeks.”

The burns across Jack’s chest and back are infected, not worrying, but a concern nonetheless. Jack wants to ask about the piercing, but he can’t. He knows somebody took it out. Mac’s eyes catch his. Jack shakes his head at the silent question.

“All right,” Red says, looking at the X-rays. “I’m going to do one last exam, and we’ll call it a night.”

“No. I’ve let you scan me head to foot. You got enough blood to start a blood bank. You don’t get to see me naked. Not without dinner.” Jack leered at the man. Red _was_ pretty cute, and not at all thrown.

“I don’t date patients,” he says firmly. “Please. And then I’ll let the _both_ of you get some sleep.” He gives Mac a glare. Mac smiles at him. Coffee and redbull, buddy. Jack grimaces. “Besides,” Red says helpfully, “I’ve already seen you naked.” Jack’s scowl intensifies.

“Fine, but Mac, you go wait outside. I’d like to keep what’s left of my dignity.”

“Dignity?” Mac asks sarcastically. “You have dignity left after that situation in ‘14? With the shrimp?”

Mac looks at Jack thoughtfully. They’ve seen each other naked, thrown up on each other, cried, hugged, gotten drunk. Jack’s literally peed on Mac. And that was all in the past year. Dignity was over a long time ago. Jack gives his partner a look.

“All right,” Mac says quietly. “I’ll go and grab a coffee. Matty and Riley have been paranoid. Nobody will listen in. Just shout if you need something. Matty’ll be outside.”

“Okay. Hey, get me one of those carrot cakes?” Mac nods and leaves. Red sits down on a stool, rolling over to Jack’s bed. “So, you wanted something?”

“Yeah. When they got you out, I did a full exam and STI panel.” Jack flinches, face tightening up. Red nods a bit, keeping his eyes on Jack’s. His voice was matter a fact, but still had empathy. “Negative. We’re gonna give you some PEP or post-exposure prophylaxis.”

Jack shakes his head. “They wore condoms.” He gives a hollow smile. “They were too nervous about catching something from me.”

“Okay. One, having an STI is nothing to be ashamed of. If you do have one, we caught it earlier. Two, thank you for letting me know. Three, anything you tell me unless you are trying to harm yourself or others, is confidential.”

“Yeah, but all your notes all get read by somebody.”

“They don’t. I write down what’s medically necessary. Everything else is Need To Know. The only person who’ll get the full story is Matty Weber, okay? I promise.”

“You promise. Okay. All right.” Jack sticks his tongue over his lip and bites down. “Was there an actual exam or were you just lying to Mac?”

“Lying to Mac. Unless you have anything that hurts?”

“Can’t feel it through the drugs. Keep those up.”

“All right. Well, it looks like I’m going to go back in in the morning, and start cleaning up your leg more. Everything looks like I set it good. Your partner hooked up an X-ray machine with a mirror and a car battery.”

“Yeah, he’s good like that.” Jack swallows. “When can I get out of here.”

“Well, I’d like to get you fitted with a prosthetic, and for your legs to bear weight. Your left knee is worse. You’re gonna need knee replacement surgery at some point, but I expect you can return to full duty if Matty okays the foot.”

“But you’re gonna clean that up tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, yeah. I want your knee to heal up a little bit, before I go back in on it. I’m going to start in on your foot tomorrow, do a nice skin patch. You’ll need about a month to heal up before I can start the process to fit you for a prosthetic. That’ll give you time for everything else to heal up as well.”

“Can’t you, I don’t, speed that up a little?” His voice got sharp by the last word.

“I can’t. Part of it is reshaping your leg. That’ll take some time.” Jack whips off the blanket to really look at the limb in question. The guard had slowly cut into his foot, and then hacked it off one piece at a time with a very dull, saw knife. Red had chopped more off because cell rooms are not sterile places. Jack’s leg was well padded, bundled up in white bandages and splinted around his knee.

Red’s right. It takes time. Jack lingers in the hospital for a long time, so long, so very, very long.

“It’s been four days,” Mac berates him. Jack whips around him in the wheelchair.

“Well, I need to get out of here. Today. Please. I know the docs are stalling. I wanna leave. It’s been forever, and that’s coming from a man who been on more stakeouts than phones you’ve broken.”

“Jack-” Mac sighs and groans- “I’ll see what I can do.”

“‘Sides it’s been three days since I’ve had surgery. I’m all healed up!” he yells after Mac.

Mac comes back with Sam. Jack’s face shuts down. Nope, no, he’s not doing this. Matty had tried to debrief him, and Jack had stonewalled her as hard as he could. Mac gives him a grimace.

“Aw, hell, nah. I’m not talking.” Mac gives him a look. “Come on, man, you know this is bullshit. I’ve been tortured before! Heck, I lost all my fingernails in the Stan after that time with the hotdogs.”

“You need to stop bringing that up.”

“I said, who’d sell hotdogs in that country? And you waltzed over there with your blond hair, not believin’ me, and look where that got us!”

“I did it because there was a bomb!-nevermind. Not the point. Look, they can’t let you go until they know you’re not a security risk.”

“I knew that prostate exam wasn’t just for fun! Look they planted nothing on me, and I never talked.”

“Jack, I have spent the past four days reading every Bruce Willis plot. Every. Single. One. It would be horrible if I never put that knowledge to use.”

“I never talked.” There’s panic in his voice now. His eyes plead with Mac’s.

“I know, buddy, but you know this is SOP.” Jack knows this was a favor. Sam was in the Middle East, interrogating War Criminals last he heard. It must’ve taken work to get her here, and have her run this brief. The idea of talking to somebody about what happened still sends shivers down his spine, but at least he knows Cage. She won’t talk about it to anybody, including Mac. She’s handled briefs like his before. Jack still shakes his head. “Jack, please.”

“Fine, but I want whatever therapist Matty is going to foist off on me there too. I don’t need to go through this twice, right?”

They agree. His therapist is a quiet Brit named Paul. Paul spends the entire session laying on the couch while Jack does his best to not fiddle with the wheels on his chair. Mac outfitted it with a cassette player, proving that Mac is it for Jack. No need to pass go, no need to collect 200 dollars. Sam walks him through the last month in horrible detail, and Paul only chimes in when Jack’s PTSD starts flaring up. The entire session stinks, but there’s only one question that really matters.

“What did they want to know?”

“Everything on Phoenix.”

“And you told them nothing?” Sam leans forward, catching Jack’s eyes when they start to flick away from hers. “It’s all right if you did, Jack. Everybody breaks.”

Jack shakes his head. “The Phoenix is home.” He coughs to unclog his throat. “I gave them _nothing_.” He relaxes and grins. “Well, I gave them the plot to multiple Bruce Willis movies, and a few _Mission Impossible_ episodes. I think I talked about MASH a bit too, because who doesn’t love Alan Alda?”

“Okay,” Sam says, touching his arm. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

“Yeah, it was real touching,” Jack mutters, turning the wheels so he rocks back and forth across the carpet. They’d done the session in Paul’s office, and Jack’s grateful that it smells of cedar and pine. It’s still in the Phoenix, albeit on the top floor. At least it has natural light.

Paul had decorated the office with as many plants as he could squeeze into the space. He’d even gotten a service dog past Matty. The dog was at least fifty percent why agents would even step foot in a shrink’s office. The dog spent the whole time drooling on Jack’s knee. Paul wasn’t really worried about the debrief, but about Jack’s mental state and what this would do it him.

Sam decides to ignore the sarcasm. “Well, if you remember anything, let me know. I heard Mac is having a barbecue later.”

“Don’t you mean barbie?” Sam laughs. Jack goes to wheel out the door, giving the dog one last scratch. “I’ll see you Monday?” he asks Paul.

“Yep. See you at ten.”

Jack goes to therapy for a month. Mostly, Paul steals his money from their Connect Four games. Slowly, slowly, Jack starts unpacking his trauma. He talks and talks, and does all the hippy art therapy, and Paul is happy with his progress. There is one area where he won’t talk: Mac.

He doesn’t talk about how Mac hasn’t given him his dog tags back. He doesn’t talk about how Mac will come by in the middle of the night just to listen to Jack breathing. Jack doesn’t talk about how he’s pretty sure that Mac loves him, but is never going to do anything about it because Mac’s dad was a piece of shit. It’d taken him a month to know that, but two years to learn the full implications of Mac’s dad being a piece of shit. He still hasn’t learned all the implications. Mac is a good person, and forgiving to a fault. Jack can be the one to hold a grudge until he dies. The point being is that Mac and Jack’s relationship is a minefield, and he wouldn’t trust Mac to disarm it. So, Paul is definitely out for playing EOD tech.

“Hey, you home?” Mac hollars through the apartment. It’s ten at night. “I refixed your lift on my way up.”

“Hey, you gonna give me back my dog tags anytime soon?” Jack hollars, wheeling his way out of the bathroom. Red had nixed his idea of using crutches, wanting to let his shoulders recover.

“Huh? I thought your sister has them?” Mac lies, like a liar, and not a very good one at that.

“I can see the chain around your neck, bud.”

Mac nods. “Sorry. I-they gave them to me after your-well, here.” Mac pulls them off over his head and hands them back to Jack.

Jack hesitates. “After my funeral?”

“Yeah. Well, before, when they loaded the casket off the plane.” Mac rubs at his mouth and looks away, blinking a little. “It’s nothing. Sorry. I should’ve given them back to you as soon as you got home.”

“So why didn’t you?” Jack asks, trying to sidestep his way through Mac’s very obvious trauma. They haven’t talked about the funeral, although Jack kept cracking jokes. Mac never rolled his eyes like he usually does, but would leave the room instead.

“I-they were all that they had of you. I wore them for a month and a half, Jack. I couldn't-it was all that I _had_ of you.” Mac’s shaking a little, and Jack’s worried now. “Sorry-I’ll go. Here, your mail.” Mac drops the mail on the table and turns to leave.

“Hey, kid, come here.” Mac’s shivering. Jack bumps him onto the sofa, and wheels himself so he’s in front of his partner. “Head between your knees. That’s it. That’s it.” Mac’s still shaking but he’s stopped looking like he’ll cry. “All right now. It’s no big deal that you kept ‘em. Hell, they will go to you if I bite it first, okay. It’s all right. Easy now. Easy.” Jack keeps his hands on Mac’s knees. “That’s it. Come on, look at me.” Mac’s eyes are bright blue and red. “Thank you for keeping them safe for me. When’s the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“Huh. See I’d say you slept around the time the Berlin wall fell.”

“That was 31 years ago, Jack.”

“And you look it. Come on. I’d like some help getting the sheets turned down anyway. That nurse Rachet-” a highly trained ex-SAS member who Sam knew- “does these hospital corners and I can’t with her.”

Without really knowing the why or the how, Mac finds himself tucked up in a bed that’s not his, having used the bathroom and brushed his teeth. They’ve shared beds before, of course they have. Working together for years will do that. They’ve slept on sand, rocky cliffs, beds with bugs, one water-bed that they don’t talk about, and all manner of things.

“I’m fine,” Mac mumbles at Jack even as he strips down to his boxer briefs. Jack does his best to not notice that they’re blue and very sexy on Mac.

“I think that’s my line. Move over.” Jack flips himself from the chair to the bed with aplomb.

“I should go-I don’t-”

“Do you want to be here?” Jack asks simply, boiling down Mac’s arguments.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No apologies necessary. Will it help you sleep?”

“I-yes.”

“Well, okay than. Let’s go to sleep. Because whatever it is that you’ve been doing, is not working, Mac. Come here.” Jack pulls Mac onto his chest. “That’s it.” He starts humming _Hey Jude_. “That’s it, and tomorrow you’re going to talk to Paul.” Jack slips the dog tags back around Mac’s neck, and tucks them under the genius’s shirt when he’s asleep. Mac’s gone by the time Jack wakes up, which is very in line for his ‘I’d rather jump out of a plane, and have done it, than talk about my feelings’ partner.

Jack does force Mac to go to a therapist. A different one than his. Something, something, policy, something, something, “I can only handle one of you guys at a time” something. Either way, by the time Jack was getting a test socket, Mac’s therapy was going well. They’d started sleeping normal hours and Mac was on his way to getting cleared for missions again.

Jack slowly stumbles around his apartment, while Riley watches. “You’re worried about Mac going back on missions?”

“Without me? Of course, I am. Dez will have his back, but if something happens, I can’t even fly out last minute to help, Riley.”

“Jack, he’s a trained operative. He knows what he’s doing. Besides you got PT in less than an hour, and I offered to drive you across town.”

“Yeah, and I want my car back.” Jack locks up his apartment.

“If you go through the funeral, you get what’s in the will. That’s the rule, Jack. Besides, it’s not exactly handicap accessible.”

“You didn’t need to take me to PT.” They get into the lift. Riley narrowly avoids Jack running over her toes.

“Uh, yeah I do. I promised Mac.” She hits the switch to go down. “Besides, I need to apologize for avoiding you.”

“Oh, yeah, what was with that?”

“I just-I had to watch the cameras, you know. And I . . . it was horrible, and I didn’t know how to help you. I’m so sorry. I couldn't find you!”

“Oh . . . Riley, it’s not your fault, sweetie. It’s not, all right? We all know the risks of this life.”

“Yeah, but-” she shuts the door after Jack gets into the car and sticks the wheelchair in the back- “I was checking in on you,” she continues. Riley starts the car, backing it out of the driveway. “I checked up on you at least once a week, and I didn’t know you were missing. They planted a false trail, and by the time you were killed, we bought it. _I_ bought it. Hook. Line. Sinker.”

“Riles, it’s not-” she gives him a look and nearly runs a redlight- “okay, fine, maybe you could’ve done something, but so what? Huh? I’m a big boy. I can handle a little torture. Not that it was fun, but I handled it. I knew the risks when I accepted the mission. I know what happens to captured operatives. I’ve been running ops with Mac for ten years now. I’ve been an operative for twenty years. I never wanted normal. Riley, sweetie, it’s not your fault, okay? I took the job and got made. That’s on me. I trusted the wrong person, and that means Paul is gonna permanently stamp ‘trust issues’ on my forehead.”

“Okay. I don’t have to like it, but okay.”

“Good. You know Mac likes to tell me, ‘worrying means you suffer twice?’ Maybe you should take that advice.”

“You know he’s quoting _Harry Potter_ right?”

“ _Fantastic Beasts._ What? I can watch a movie that’s not a Bruce Willis classic.”

“Mac made you, huh?”

“Oh yeah. Weird freaky wizards with a case. I think he relates a little too much to that Scamander fellow. Remember the thing with the dog?”

Things get better for Jack and worse for Mac. Mac curses Jack for getting him to see a therapist. “Blondie, if you don’t go, I’ll put you on leave with paperwork, you get me?” were Matty’s exact words. So, maybe it wasn’t Jack’s fault, but it feels good to blame him for his current predicament.

Myles is about two hundred years old and used to be a professor at Berkeley. Matty is not new at picky therapists for people. He wears old cardigans and drinks tea, and is usually very, very patient with Mac. But even his steadfast patience is barely getting him through.

“I asked,” he says because Mac asked him to repeat the question as an obvious avoidance tactic, “you to describe your relationship with Jack.”

“We’re partners.” Mac’s voice is gruff and he can’t stop fiddling with the cube. In the biz, they call that a tell.

“And?”

“And what? We’ve been working together for ten years. We get on each others’ nerves during stakeouts, and get shot at regularly.” Mac fiddles with the rubik's cube, setting and solving it over and over again. It’s no pentamix, but it’s decently difficult and he built it in the lab himself.

“How has it been working with him for ten years?”

“It’s been good.” Myles reminds himself that rolling his eyes is unprofessional. He makes a mental note to tell Matty to have Mac do the interrogation training for new recruits. Although, that would be on the non-funny side of irony.

“What do you want to talk about?” Myles asks.

“I don’t know. Your session, right?” Mac asks with a glimmer in his eye that tells Myles that _why yes, this guy’s read every single psychiatric book he could get his hands on_. Myles just raises his eyebrows. Mac sighs. “Fine. So what if I have trouble communicating my feelings? That’s considered a good thing in my line of work, right?”

“It depends. Communicating with your team is a good thing. Repressing your emotions when in a safe place is bad. Let’s try this again. How do you feel about Jack Dalton?” If Myles knew the can of worms he’d uncover, maybe he’d have picked a different person to ask about. But alas, he didn’t know because nowhere in Mac’s file does it say ‘may have a panic attack if asked about his best friend.’ It takes Myles fifteen minutes of leading Mac through breathing exercises and pouring him another cup of tea for them both to calm down. “Okay. Okay. Clearly, I pushed when I shouldn’t have.”

“No-you-how could you have known I’d be such a headcase?” Mac waves his words off.

“You’re not a headcase. Whatever caused that is not-” Myles grapples for words- “it is something that deserves recognition. You are not just your mental problems, okay?” Mac shakes his head again, running his fingers along the cube, feeling out the element symbols. “Hey, say it with me ‘I am more than my problems.’” Mac flinches, not meeting Myles’ eyes. “Mac.”

“I am more than my problems.” The words gush out, hurrying their way into the still room. There’s a horrible feeling clawing its way up Mac’s throat. _I am more than my problems_. Sure. Yep. That tracks with his current job and almost thirty years on this Earth.

“I am more than my trauma.”

“I am more than my trauma.”

“Okay. Thank you. I know that was difficult to say.” Mac’s eyes flit up and then down. “All right. What were you feeling before your panic attack?”

“I-” Mac looks up, taking in the old professor who looks like he could wait a thousand years for Mac to feel brave. “Shame. I felt shame.”

Myles gently ends the session, leading Mac through more words of affirmation. He thanks the man for coming to the session and sharing. Myles reaffirms that Mac has a support network and that their next session is next Thursday, baring disasters. Mac nods at the ground, and Myles’ worry grows.

The next session is worse. Mac doesn’t talk at all, keeping his eyes on the ground. Myles takes it in stride and spends an hour coloring with his client. The session after is more of the same. Myles reminds himself that he is patient, that he can do this. The fourth session after the panic attack, Myles takes Mac gardening. They plant trees at a local club because Myles knows Mac thinks better when he’s doing something, something to help. There’s some deep-seated trauma in that, and Myles adds it to the list titled “if I was not a kind and gentle professor/therapist, here’s why I would become a hitman.” He knows a savior complex when he sees one, and he damn well knows what they come from.

Myles got his undergrad degree in plants, before doing his doctorate in therapy. He figures that if they can’t fix the mental stuff, they can at least do some gardening for the community.

It’s the fifth session after the panic attack, when Mac speaks again. They’re surrounded by trees and sunlight when Mac says, “my dad told me liking men is _unnatural_.” Myles doesn’t say anything, doesn’t look at Mac. Sometimes, people really just need to be _heard_. He does recognize the emphasis on that word though, and puts it aside for later. “I think . . . I think if I could love anybody the way I- . . . I think if I wasn’t warped, I’d love Jack.”

Myles stews over that for a minute. “Come here.” He points to a twisted sapling that’s been gnawed on by deer, badgers, and other creatures. “One day this will push up past the canopy leaves. It will become a great tree, one that is repellant against rot and all manner of disease. Cedars grown in disease infested forests because they’re immune. They’re warped sometimes. They grow in wetlands where other trees would die. But for now, it looks terrible, broken down by things beyond its control. Warped trees still grow and are worthy of our admiration. They grow not in spite of their warpness, but because of it.”

“Are you comparing me to a tree?” Mac asks with a smile, but his eyes are wary.

“Coping strategies like learning to grow in wet places or avoidance or denial are useful in traumatic situations,” Myles continues quietly. “But when the danger is past, it becomes hard for people to unlearn those strategies and find ones that are more suited to this new period. We grow not in spite of our mistakes or past, but because of them.”

“Okay, so what? You think I should shout my shit at everybody, huh? Tell Jack that I-that I might love him?”

“All trees are imperfect,” Myles continues softly. “Every single one of them. People are imperfect. What you tell Jack is your decision, but love is love. All creatures are worthy of love in their lifetime.”

“So you’re not put off by my homosexual tendencies?” There’s irony in Mac’s voice. He knows the statistics, the math of liking more than one gender. He went to MIT. He lives in LA. Last year he went with Desi to Pride to show his support. Ah hell, he’s going to have to talk with Desi because she’s a friend and a good one at that. He’s flirted with every gender for a mission, and then some.

Mac knows that it’s perfectly all right for people to be queer. He just can’t attach that to himself, and he’s aware of the faultlines there. Mac’s aware of it all, because he _can’t_ not be.

“No. I deeply appreciate and am grateful that you told me. Thank you for telling me.” Myles hesitates for a moment, and then decides to give Mac context. “My husband-” Mac blinks- “hmm, yes, my husband came from a devote family. He underwent conversion therapy.” Myles’ eyes are tired. “It took him years to let himself be loved, not that I’m responsible for his therapy of course.”

Matty is unfortunately very, very good at her job.

“I didn’t-I wasn’t put in conversion therapy. He just-he left.” Mac swallows, looking at the needles under his boots. “And I didn’t know it wasn’t about that until a year ago. I never told anybody else. And I know it’s not a sin or unnatural. I loved Desi, and will support her when she makes a move on Riley. It’s just . . . different for me.” He kicks the dirt a little. “I wish I knew what my Grandpa would say.”

“Mac, if he loved you, it would have changed nothing. What your father said and did was wrong. It was hurtful and the opposite of what a parent or guardian should say to a child.” Mac shrugs. It is what it is to him. “Look at me.” Myles waits for Mac’s eyes to meet his. “I am sorry that happened to you. It means a lot to me that you were open with me. You can heal from this, okay? I want you to say, ‘what my dad did was not my fault. He was a grown man and I was a kid.’” Mac dutifully repeats it. “‘I am more than my trauma. I am responsible for my actions alone.’” Mac repeats. “Okay. Good. Come on, they gotta be wondering where we are by now.”

“Right. Thanks.” Mac nods and scrubs at his face, wiping away the evidence of crying.

Myles goes home that night and has a very medium size glass of wine, thank you very much. Mac goes to Riley’s apartment and drinks hot coco, and does his very best to not think at all for eight hours. In the morning, he flips pancakes that have been poured into funky symbols.

“I thought you couldn't cook?” Riley asks, pouring herself another cup of coffee.

“Oh, I can’t, but pancakes were a staple in college.” Mac has his back to her when he says, “hey, you know that I’d love you no matter what, right? Like we’re family.”

“Yeah, of course. I mean, after we stopped your aunt from destroying the entire world, I figured that.”

“Right. But seriously, anything.”

Riley’s eyes narrow and her fingers itch for a keyboard. Maybe she could zoom call Sam in to immediately know what’s going on with her friend. “Okaaay.”

Mac rests his hands on the stove handles. “If you decide you liked somebody, and were worried about my reaction, I don’t want you to.”

“Hey, Mac, what brought this on?”

 _Oh, just the feeling that he never wants her to feel like he did_ , Mac thinks. _Nothing at all_.

“I-I’m . . . nevermind. Stupid, really.”

Riley comes around the breakfast bar and puts her hand on Mac’s shoulder. “Hey, hey, you can tell me anything. This family thing goes both ways.”

“I’m bisexual.” There. Done. Mac flinches and breathes through a wave of panic.

“Oh. _Oh_. Thank you for telling me!” Mac feels Riley rub her hand on his shoulder. “You’re my brother, Mac. Who else would I save the whole damn world with?” Mac grins and feels the panic turn to elation. Riley pulls him into a hug, squeezing him tight for several minutes. Hey, maybe this isn’t bad. “Now, come on, I’m firing up the waffle machine. Who prefers pancakes?”

“Can you not tell anybody for a minute?” he asks, voice quiet enough that Riley practices her lip-reading skills.

“Of course. I’m not going to out you. Geez, Mac. I love you, you know that.” She grins suddenly. “You better tell Bozer soon though, otherwise he’ll blow a gasket that you told me first.”

“I wanted to tell you first,” he says. Riley was the easier sell. He’d seen her making moon eyes when Desi took out a six man hitsquad last week.

“I know.”

“Because I love you too. And you’re family.”

“We are, huh. Come on though, pancakes? Really? Waffles.” And with that they go back to their morning routine.

Mac keeps his unspoken word and tells Bozer later that night. It goes well so he tells Desi the next day, and without trying, Jack’s the last to know. But the missions keep coming. COVID set off a crime spree across America and the world at large.

“Right, so Blondie is going to seduce the rich guy,” Matty announces once the inevitable bickering over plans dies down.

“Wait, but he’s not into men so . . .” Jack notes the awkward silence. “Oh. _Oh_. Well, then I guess the plan is a go.” Matty knew because well . . . she was a covert operative and highly trained in interrogation and snooping.

It’s been a year since Jack was recovered. He’d only gotten okayed last week, having completed a tactical test with his new foot. Mac had kept running missions, but this was the first one with Jack on board. It had to be his first back, huh. Mac twists his paperclip around his finger.

“Hey, man,” Mac says, catching Jack as the plane gets closer to their Istanbul. Jack’s face tightens up. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tell you.”

“Really? Because it feels like it was deliberate. Look, I don’t know what’s going on in your head anymore, not since I left to find Vitez.”

“Jack-”

“It’s fine, homie. I just figured you would’ve told me.”

“Jack . . . outside of Bozer, your opinion of me is the only one that matters. I couldn't-I couldn't stand it if you didn’t want to be my friend anymore, okay? I was going to tell you. I needed time.”

Jack reels back. “Mac, of course I’m still your friend. Geez, you’re just full of drama, aren’t you? I told you, I do not have the time or energy to train a best friend. Besides, I would never give you up, okay? Unless you turned evil and I had to shoot you. Then I’d have to stop being friends.”

“Oh, of course,” Mac grins.

“Glad we’re on the same page for once.”

“So am I. Now if you two morons can put aside your drama for a minute, our target is moving,” Matty interrupts.

Neither one of them brings up Cairo, and it hangs in the air.

The mission goes as well as it can given that Mac is infiltrating a gay resort with his crush on the comms, and his ex-girlfriend there with her crush as well. To which, it goes terribly. There’s a moment in the steam room when Mac’s making out with the target and all he can hear is Jack’s breathing on the comm. Mac groans and thrusts up against the guy. His name is Alec. Fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” Alec says, his voice rough. “There, right there.” Mac thrusts again, hands kneading Alec’s ass. _Riley, hurry the hell up_ , he thinks. “God, fuck me, please, fuck me.”

“I can’t, sweetheart, I got plans.” He thrusts and bites the man’s neck at the same time, making him come in his pants. He then, having been told that the coast is clear finally, stabs Alec in the leg with a sedative. “You took a long time clearing that coast.”

“Well,” Desi says breathless, “you try taking out Russian security. See how well you do.” They haul the son of a very wealthy mob boss back onto their plane.

Which is all very well and good, but Mac still looks like he made a guy come in his pants, and Jack doesn't know what to do with that. So he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t say anything when Mac goes to the bathroom to change. He doesn’t say anything when Mac slumps in the seat across from him with a grin.

“Hey, man,” Mac says, tapping his foot against Jack’s real one.

“Hey, sorry. Nice work on this mission.”

“Heh, I was just bait. Weird. You think I pissed off Matty?”

“Nah, she’d let you know.” Besides, Jack has a suspicion that he’s the one being punished.

“How’s your foot doing? I meant to ask you. You must’ve taken a hit jumping out the window.”

“Oh, it feels fine.”

Mac gives him an unimpressed look. “Can I take a look? It must’ve been fifteen feet.” Jack huffs, but at another look he rolls up his pant leg, and kicks off his boot. Mac guides Jack’s leg up onto his knee. “Looks like a spring is loose.” Mac breaks out his knife and starts fiddling with a spring.

The “foot” itself is barebones, pun intended. It’s made from magnesium alloy and designed by Mac, Jack, Bozer, and Red. There are a couple of scraps on it because Jack figured he didn’t need to wear both shoes when in LA. He’s been donating them to the VA.

Things get easier. Mac goes back to staying at Jack’s apartment one night every week. Jack starts talking more with his ex-Delta unit. Mac hits a few gay bars. He goes on a few dates, and doesn’t have one panic attack, thank you very much. He does continue to talk to Myles once a week though over tea. It’s fine. It’s fine that Jack’s started dating an army linguist who’s beautiful. Mac’s met her three times, and she’s beautiful and amazing, and very, very female. She’s Pakistani, loves Bruce Willis, and likes Metalica. So, Mac goes back to keeping his mouth shut and not thinking about Cario.

“You know this is sad,” Bozer tells him as he tries unsuccessfully to slip back in the house around 4:30am. “I mean, I know it was bad when you and Riley were dancing around each other, but this is just sad. Tell the man you like him, Mac, and stop-” Bozer throws a pillow at his friend- “waking me up at three in the morning.”

“Sorry, Boze. Wait, Riley and me?”

“Oh yeah, it took her a minute to realize she wasn’t crushing on you, but on Desi.” Mac just stares at his friend. “Was that-did I-oh dang! She didn’t tell you?” They pause for a minute. “Oh, well, the past is the past, right? And you, if you don’t get a move on Jack, are going to wait another ten years? Or the next near-death experience, huh.”

“So, next week then. Besides, what’s going on with your love life?”

“Well, at least I haven’t woken up at three in the morning to go run because of my pining! Geez, I’m starting to think that spies are bad at relationships. I know you went to MIT, but maybe you should’ve gone to film school. There was like an orgy a week. Very French.”

“Boze, I can’t tell him.” Mac scrubs at his face. “We just got him back, and he’s healed up. I can’t spring this on him. Jack’s staying. What if I make him leave? What if he leaves me again?” Mac shakes his head. “Besides, my life isn’t exactly danger-free. If we got close, one of my enemies could target him just like they could target you or any of our friends! I can’t do it, not after Nasha.”

“You dated Desi.”

“Yeah, but Desi is-she can take care of herself.”

“Oh, like Jack couldn't? Mac, you’re not going to lose him by being honest. You’re going to lose him by pushing him away.”

“Bozer, I rejected him.”

“What?!” Mac goes to the fridge and pulls out two beers. He roses one to his friend.

“In Cairo. There was a moment, and I-I rejected him.”

“Why?” Mac shakes his head, and the expression on his face convinces Bozer to stop asking questions. He hasn’t told anybody else about his dad, not with all of them encouraging to make up, and it would feel wrong to start insulting a dead man’s name. Mac has no proof after all, is what he tells himself. It would hurt him deeply if they didn’t believe him. “Okay,” Bozer says, steering the conversation back on track. “Tell him you changed your mind, that you realized that he’s your soulmate. For fucks sake, Mac, he’s your person.”

“I know. And he finally seems happy. I can’t blow that for him.”

Bozer is tempted, like 6% tempted, to switch sides. Surely, surely Murdoc and international criminals can’t be this frustrating to be friends with.

“Okay, man. I think you’re making a mistake, but okay.”

Mac tries to let go. He does. Mac runs in the mornings, breaks criminals’ faces, and desperately tries to not be in love with his best friend. Myles gets him a window garden with a note ‘may your idiotic pining yield healthy plants.’ It works until it doesn’t, and Mac forces it to work again.

“Hey, homie,” Jack shouts, coming into Mac’s house. He’s had a spare key ever since they got back from the ‘Stan. That’s what happens when you’ve lived in each other’s back pockets for a year and change. “My girlfriend dumped me,” he shouts, walking around until he finds Mac sitting on the deck meditating. Myles had suggested it, and Mac found it useful.

“Oh, damn, man, I’m so sorry!” Mac jumps up and hugs Jack. “What happened? I thought things were great!”

“They were! And then she said she found somebody and how it seemed like I wasn’t really in the relationship, and she was right.” Jack sighs. “These things happen, and I don’t really think she liked Bruce Willis enough.” Neither had Mac, but after the fifty or so time, it grows on you, like mold.

“Ah, damn I’m sorry. _Die Hard_ marathon and tacos?” Jack nods, gratefully.

For the first time, they’re both single, but Jack just got dumped. Mac can’t drop his trauma now, right? Right. After three weeks, Bozer is getting closer and closer to sticking them both in a closet and hoping for the best. He really, really is. Matty would forgive him, right?

The bad guys happen first.

“You have such a pretty face,” Mac slurs, trying to get out of the hospital bed. Red pats him on the shoulder. “So, so pretty. Hey, hey, do you know If you took out all the empty space in our atoms, the human race could fit in the volume of a sugar cube?”

“I didn’t know that,” Red says. Mac starts whistling the Billy Nye theme song. Red turns to the crew. “Truth serum. Apart from that, he seems fine.”

“You’re _fine_.” Mac pokes Red in the face. “If I wasn’t already in love-wanting Jack to bang me like a screen door, I’d hit on you. And like conflict. Yeah.”

Everybody, except Jack, collectively takes a step backward. Jack takes two forward until he’s right in front of Mac. “What was that?”

“Oh, hey, Jack! I woulda told you, but my dad was mean. Myles said he traumatized me, which is a funny word.” Mac starts repeating ‘traumatized’ over and over again.

“Jack, maybe now’s not the best time to-” Matty starts.

“Hey now, he said something about being in love with me. Mac, are you in love with me?”

“I think he said he wants you to bang him like a screen door, not exactly a declaration of true love.”

Jack shakes his head and holds up a hand to get Desi to stop talking. “Mac, are you in love with me?”

“What?” Mac asks, his voice going shrill. “Of course not. I’m not in love with you!” Nobody buys it.

“Okay,” Red interrupts. “Let’s stop interrogating my patient when he can’t help but give an honest answer or a very poor lie. Mac, do you want anybody to stay?”

“Jack.”

“Fine, but he will keep his mouth shut or I’ll throw him out myself.” Jack very much believes that. Red is terrifying when he’s in a mood. “Now, the drug should wear off in the next hour or so. I want you to rest, okay? Try to get a good nap in. There we go, lay down.” Red pulls a blanket over Mac. “I’m gonna start a line for fluids, okay?”

“Hm. My dad liked run blood tests on me. Are you going to take any blood?” Red breathing through his killing instinct. “Doc, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s all right. I just got upset for a minute. I am going to take some blood, if that’s all right with you.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re nice.” Mac waves an arm, smacking Red in the stomach. “Ops.” Mac then passes out, not even stirring when Red fiddles around with needles.

“He’s really out of it, huh?” Jack sits down on a stool. “Thanks, doc,” he says once Red goes to leave. Red shuts the door behind him. “You and me are going to have a long conversation once the drugs clear your system.”

Hours later, the genius comes awake. “Fuck,” he says, holding a hand to his pounding head. It’s pounding away at the rhythm of something scientific. Fuck. “Shit. What happened?”

“Truth serum, hombre.” Mac forces himself to open his eyes to that, and bites back another moan. “Oh yeah. They dosed you.” Slowly, slowly, Mac forces himself to sit up and nearly toples over. Jack watches him, not offering to help. Asshole deserves it. “The doc said water would help,” he offers, pointing to the cup.

“I can feel the Earth rotate.”

“No, you can’t. Not scientifically possible.”

“Nope. I got it. Einstein was wrong. There is no relativity. Fuck.” Mac gulps down some water. “I don’t remember anything,” he tries. Jack gives him a look. “I don’t! You can’t remember anything after truth serum.”

“Sure if you don’t have specialized training, which I know you do.”

“They damn near OD me. I can’t remember shit. Last I know, I was in a cell and they gased it. Really smart delivery system, kept me from fighting an injection. Goddamn it. What’d I say that has you all-” Mac makes a gesture to encompass Jack scowling- “huh?”

“Oh nothing. You just admitted that you were in love with me.”

“What!?” Mac tries to sit bolt up right and fails, nearly falling out of the bed. “Damnit! I did what?”

“Oh yeah, partner. You also said you wanted me to-what was the phrase?- ‘bang you like a screendoor.’ Which, I gotta say is a great turn of phrase, but I don’t think you really know what that means.”

“1) I do. 2) Jack, I-I’m sorry, okay.” Mac holds his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to know. It’s just a crush, all right?”

“Oh, really? A crush, huh? Mac, you’re a shit liar.” Mac lifts his face up enough to raise his eyebrows. “No, you are. You’re in love with me. What was Cario then?”

“I-” Mac cuts himself off and starts getting out of the hospital bed. He pulls on a pair of pants and shucks his shoes on. “I’ll go. I’ll get Matty to assign you somewhere else if you want. I-I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Mac?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean.”

“Hey-Mac?!” It turns out you can have an anxiety attack trying to pull your pants up. Huh, who’d athunk it? “Breath you moron. Come on.” Jack pulls his friend into his arm. “That’s it. Jesus fuck, he really did a number on you, huh?”

“Wha?”

“It’s okay. Nice and easy. Maybe I shouldn’t have attacked you like that, huh? Shhh. You’re okay, bud. Nice and easy.”

“S-s-sorry.” He keeps apologizing over and over.

“It’s okay. Shh.” Eventually, Mac comes down and realizes he _is_ fine, even with Jack humming Metallica.

“Sorry,” he says, voice brittle. He laces up his boots. “I’ll just go.”

“Mac, I don’t want you to go. It’s the opposite of what I want, you understand? Look at me? That’s it. I just want to know . . . Cairo?”

“I-I realized I was half in love with you. And I realized I could shut it down. I was deep in the closet and so repressed. I couldn't, Jack. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I thought it was just a reaction on your part, and I didn’t-I couldn't lose you.”

“Oh. _Oh_. Mac, you wouldn’t have lost me. Dude, I was so gone on you.”

“Wait, you-you were into me?”

“Of course I was.” Jack smiles. “Who else would watch BW fifty times?”

“Oh.” Mac scrubs at the back of his neck. “So, what now?”

“You said something about screen doors?” They grin at each other.

They do eventually talk, after thoroughly wiping the security cameras and apologizing to the nursing staff. Mac tells Jack all about his dad, about his traumatic backstory. Jack simply taps his beer against Mac’s, and adds James Macgyver to his List. Desi and Riley do get together, and Desi walks around all week like the cat who got the canary. Apparently, Desi wasn’t risking some weird plan that had her going undercover or something. _She_ did not need the drama, unlike _some_ people.

They still all have PTSD and see therapists on the regular. Mac still breaks every single one of Jack’s phones, but he also manages to get Bruce Willis to write a note to Jack. So, Jack forgives him. They keep going on insane missions, because neither of them could handle a desk job. They fight and fall in love and save the world together.

the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hand to God, I was gonna write a quick fix-it and then got ‘Mac is so fucked up like sooooo fucked up you don’t even know’ instead. So that’s how we ended up with two therapists. The real MVP is Matty and Bozer. Angus ‘it’s fine it’s fine everything’s on fire but it’s all good’ Macgyver.
> 
> As I edited this and posted it at 22:38, I hopefully will do a better editing job later but here it is after two weeks.


End file.
